CHAPTER XLIII

rpHAT night came the order to halt on their objective.
JL In the morning they would go forward again,
but meanwhile — sleep, ^ The men flung themselves
down, some too heavy with weariness to eat until rest
had brought ease to their aching bodies. Those whose
duties would take them to the Listening Posts damned
their luck and looked at the others with envy.
Christophe found himself detailed for a special
patrol, together with five Syrians and two Armenians.
The French Lieutenant in command rubbed his eyes,
for his youth was making him feel extra sleepy. He was
dreaming of a certain immense feather bed into which
he had used to creep with his parents; it still stood
in the corner of a spacious room with blue brocade
walls and a painted ceiling:
'Bon Dieu/ he murmured disconsolately, 'how
little one imagines at five years old what is going to
happen to one at twenty!5
The Sergeant was rumbling with soft, rich oaths.
He was dreaming of a world that was guiltless of ver-
min and Turks alike, above all of patrols undertaken
after a hard day's fighting. A passing Armenian
dropped an open tin of sardines, and they as precious
as ortolans on toast. The oil splashed over the Ser-
geant's boots:
'Sacree face de verP growled the outraged Sergeant.
The Corporal was more patient, he took things as
they came — lice, bugs, Turks, patrols, and even
Armenians. What would you? Life was made up of
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